Hunted
by Kate-CorvusAlbus
Summary: Inquisitor Nicomedo of the Ordo Xeno is hunting an Eldar Farseer, who has managed to elude him for decades, leading him to a distant world devoid of most life. Already Necrons are slowly awakening from their tombs, and the Inquisitor must decide, whether his hunt is more important than this new threat. Takes place before "Victoria Primus".
1. Chapter 1

This is just the prologue for the story, I'll try to make the following chapters longer, and you know... make more stuff happening. Again, English is not my first language, please excuse whatever horrible mistakes I've made.

* * *

Several hands carried him, his feet only occasionally slid over the white tiled floor. Bright neon light stabbed into his eyes as soon as he tried to open them, he groaned disoriented and kept them closed instead. His view was blurred anyway, so what was the point?

"Put him on the bed over there." He heard a distant female voice, shortly before another pair of hands grabbed him by his legs and he was lifted onto a soft mattress. Well, maybe it was soft compared to the pub's floor. Right the pub. That's where he was last, so… where was he now? Prison; wouldn't be the first time. His jaw hurt like hell, his nose felt somewhat dull. Damn, did he get into a fight again? He involuntarily snarled when a needle was rammed into his vein.

"Looks like he is conscious."

"Scan his skull, straighten his nose and check if his jaw is fractured. After that you can clean him up and give him liquid; intravenous." Another female voice replied, this one more authoritative and cool.

Nope, this wasn't a prison; they would have thrown him into a cell and wait for him to get sober on his own. Hold on; he hadn't been drinking that much, if he remembered correctly, but the other guy, who had assaulted him and by any means shouldn't have been able to be walking straight, with his breath like a distillery. With a weary sigh he let himself drift back into sleep.

* * *

Blinking at the same harsh neon lightonce more, he awoke hours later in a small white room, the smell of disinfectant was strong, assaulting his senses. He turned around to get a better idea of where he was, to his left a small window was covered by beige curtains, to his right there were three more, but empty beds and his infusion. Hospital; why didn't that occur to him last night? He was wearing a grey hospital grown and a handcuff constrained him to his bed. Of course his skeleton key-set was nowhere to be found. As he tested the hold of his cuffs, the door opened and a young woman with long, braided auburn hair entered, wearing the white coat of the Officio Medicae.

"I see you have awoken." She greeted him in a rather neutral tone, her green eyes regarding him vigilantly, as if he posed an immediate threat.

"How long was I out?" His voice was deep and raspy.

She checked the watch around her wrist. "About nine hours; you took quite a hit."

"What? The punch to my nose?" A hand wandered to the patch, covering the bridge.

She approached his bed. "No, according to witnesses, someone smashed a bottle over the back of your head. Nothing to worry about, just a few stitches." Pointing to his face the medicae continued. "Your nose on the other hand is broken. How did you get into that fight anyway?" There was something accusing in her tone; like she was a saint, he though grimly.

"Didn't start it." He defended himself. "That bloke was pissed about something and I was inconveniently close by; all I did was in self-defense."

She narrowed her eyes dismissively. "You broke several ribs and traumatized his liver."

"Self-defense, and it's hardly my fault he is a heavy drinker. Speaking of which; what is this about?" He lifted his chained arm.

"For our protection. We couldn't anticipate your behavior, and all we knew was that you incapacitated someone two heads taller and a few dozen pounds heavier than yourself."

"And if I'm a good boy?" He tried to sound innocent, but his voice didn't feel like playing along.

"Then they'll be eventually removed." She answered as she exchanged the now empty infusion. It gave him an opportunity to read the little sign on her coat.

"So your name is Pravin?" He wanted to direct the conversation away from last night.

The medicae removed her blue plastic gloves. "Yes, which reminds me; we haven't found identification with you, so I still need yours."

Great, is wallet was gone too. "Horaz Taylor." He saw the questionable look on her face. "Yeah, not the greatest name, trust me I know." Note to self: Change first name.

"Well, Mr. Taylor, seeing as your injuries are not severe, you won't be staying here for long. Are you living here on Ibelin?"

"No, just passing through. I usually travel with any ship that needs an extra pair of hands in exchange for a bed and something to eat."

"Seems to be working out just fine." Pravin replied, almost sneering.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that's appropriate for a doctor? Did I offend you somehow?"

She bit her lip, as if she was only know realizing in what tone she was speaking to her patient. A chained patient. "I'm sorry. No, it's nothing personal, it's not you. It has just been a bad day here."

"Oh yeah? Join the club." He noted dryly. "By the way; is there any chance for me to get something to eat here? My last employee wasn't too generous with the rations. "Taylor had been on Ibelin for about two days, but what little he'd earned on his latest tour he would only last another week, and only if he was frugal.

"Of course, I'll get you something."

Seth couldn't know that the moment Pravin had closed the door behind her, every bit of tension and revulsion was stripped of her, like someone had opened a window in a muggy room. She stopped in her tracks, slightly confuse, yet soon moved on, not wasting another though about it.

* * *

Snoring was the first thing reaching Lucian Brennan's hears, as he entered the newest Acolyte's room. Snoring and the smell of alcohol. Seth Nelson was half lying on his bed, half on the cold floor, a bottle of Amasec next to him, but empty. His head was clean shaven, except for a stripe, splitting his head like a chopped off Mohawk. The bounty hunter shook his head and approached him, right before kicking the former Storm Trouper's boots. Groaning the younger man awoke, rubbing his eyelids, somewhat spacy. Seth's gotee had almost turned into a full beard, his eyes, one brown the other one green, gave Brennan a disapproving gaze to say the least.

"What the…?" He mumbled in a hoarse voice.

"Why do you let yourself go like this?" Brennan asked, his tone perfectly appropriate for reprehending a child.

"Why not?" Seth responded grimly, grabbing the bottle and checking its content only to find it empty. He threw it away disappointed. "Why are you are here; I was just taking a nap." His voiced was quiet but sore.

"You're with the Inquisition now; a more serious demeanor would be appreciated."

Seth got on his feet, barely, and supported himself on his bed with one hand. "You know I was perfectly happy with my life; only a few years more and I could have quit the Guard if I wanted to, have a normal life, without killing stuff for two second; who knows maybe have a family. Now I'm here with a small group of people, barley to no contact to the outside world, cause our very existence is kept a secret to most people. I'm stuck here on this ship with a bunch of servitors and a handful of zealots, and I feel out of place like an orc on a peace conference!"All this was said in great haste, and with overdramatic gestures, which only made Seth lose his balance and hold on to the chair next to his bed for additional support. He shook his head, as if it would clear his head.

"Would you rather be dead now?" Brennan asked him. Seth had had the choice to either join Inquisitor Nicomedo or be executed for knowing too much; and insubordination probably as well.

Seth turned his face away, staring at the floor, his displeasure more than obvious. "I'm still considering." He confessed after a few moments of silence. "You worked solo your whole live before Nicomedo found you; was it easy for you?"

"No." Brennan replied, with pity in his eyes. "But I stayed, and came to appreciate this kind of work. Though I think it is easier to accommodate to a group, rather than change one for another." He regarded Seth for a moment, who didn't respond or even looked back at him. "Rest and clean yourself up; we'll be arriving on Ibelin in three hours, and Basil wants to take you with him on his landing-party."

Seth sat down, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Fine." He began weary. "I'll be there."

"You devoted your life to fight in the Emperor's name; why does this pose such a stretch to you?" There was nothing depreciative in Brennan's voice, only sincerity.

"I decided to join the Guard when I was a boy." Seth told him. "It seemed honorable, and I had no future on my home planet. But now I've survived so many battles, and I feel like I missed out on so many other things. It has always been: "We protect Mankind from its various enemies", and you know what; I don't even know life outside the military. Fuck; I've seen more Eldar than Human females. The universe hasn't changed to any notable degree, and if I die, all I've accomplished seems so…futile." He broke off and returned to stare at the floor under his feet again.

The bounty hunter waited a while, before picking up the conversation again. "I wish I could say something more helpful, but you have to give it more time. One day, maybe without you even noticing, you will accept where you are." Brennan turned, but before leaving he stopped at the door. "And it is not all futile, not to the people we save at least; maybe you can find some comfort in that. Besides, someone has to do this job, so it might as well be us. That way at least, we know it's been done properly."

"How long have you been with Nicomedo?"

Brennan shrugged indifferent. "Don't know; I've stopped counting years ago."


	2. Chapter 2

Second chapter I finished faster than expected, there is worse I suppose. Oh, and thanks Yeddity for your review. Very grateful, because I don't get them a lot.

* * *

Djamila Vega watched Seth from the moment he'd arrived in the briefing room, its walls covered with currently black monitors. He had actually taken a shower, even managed to shave his goatee into shape, without cutting himself too much, however he still looked tired and unmotivated, with dark rings underneath his eyes. He was wearing his old uniform, green Carapace armor over dark green cloths, beaten up and patched several times, but the former Guardsman seemed attached to his old gear, and refused to take anything Nicomedo's armory had to offer with the exception of weapons. Djamila had long rid herself of her prior uniform, but kept the style of a Navy Warrant Officer, with white pants tugged into black boots, and a blue vest over a white shirt.

The only other person in the room was Eugene Durai, an Arbiter, whose head was mostly covered with bionics due to severe injuries, and was probably the longest standing member of the Inquisitor's Acolytes, along with Lucien Brennan, the former bounty hunter.

"So what's that I've heard about a landing party; weren't we supposed to go back home?" Seth was talking about Nicomedo's house on Ibelin, where the Inquisitor and his Acolytes stayed between missions, whenever time allowed it.

"Not this time." Nicomedo said as he came through the door, with Brennan and Nathan Mandrake, his interrogator, following him. "My savants have informed me that only a few days ago an Untouchable has come to Ibelin. I intend to find, and if possible, recruit him before we continue our mission."

The group gathered around the strategium-table at the center. "A what?" Seth interjected, slightly frustrated that once again he was the only one out of the loop. He rejected the idea it could have anything to do with his latest drinking session, in this particular case.

The Inquisitor smiled. "An Untouchable, or a psychic blank, has no presence in the warp, effectively making him both soulless and immune to the effects of psychic abilities. However he also affects those around him; his proximity to someone who possesses even a modicum of psychic ability could be quite painful or lethal, and even to someone without any psychic abilities, his presence is irritating, it causes discomfort to the point of prompting hostility."

It dawned on Seth what the Inquisitor intended. "You want to use him against the Farseer."

Nicomedo nodded. "Yes, in fact every Eldar is a psyker to some degree, and an Untouchable might be able to shield our presence from them, for a short while at least."

"What if he doesn't want to join?" Vega asked.

"I've convinced you after all."

She gave him a short-lived smile. "Fair enough." Djamila Vega had been in the Guard like Seth, but as a pilot, before Nicomedo had found her and her psychic abilities, which first had manifested as inhumanly fast reflexes. It had been a difficult process to recruit her, not only because the Inquisition had to approve of her first, but because her home world had been destroyed by an Exterminatus a few years prior, due to an uncontrollable Orc Waaagh. By now however she had buried her grudges, at least against Nicomedo. "While you're at it." She continued. "We need a new Medicae."

Their former Medicae Nirav Larkin had died a year ago, and while superficial wounds and broken bones was something they all could handle themselves, anything more critical, injuries by specific xeno weaponry or poison was beyond their skill. Also mandatory vaccinations were almost impossible to come by without trained professionals. Vaccinations were insofar necessary seeing as every planet posed different microbes the individual immune system was not prepared for.

"My dear, I would leave that to you." Nicomedo replied, and slid a data slate over the table to her. "Augustine has provided me with a list of possible candidates, I'd like you to go through them and give me two to three candidates."

"Of course." She said, and began to read, her eyes running quickly over the glowing screen.

"Mandrake I'd like you to handle resupplying the ship, while I'm gone. Brennan, Nelson; you'll be accompanying me today. Make preparations, we'll be landing in 45min."

* * *

"What are you doing here again?" With crossed arms, Medicae Pravin stood in the doorway, glaring at Taylor, who was sitting in a wheelchair, his left leg in a cast.

He just smiled, balancing the chair only on its large rear wheels. "I give you ten guesses." Taylor replied, trying to move his broken leg just a little.

"I thought you went looking for a ship to take you in." She grabbed the handle on the wheelchair, only a moment before he lost balance and tipped over.

"Ups, thanks anyway. And no, I couldn't find one."

"You've been here for the third time in three weeks. I'm starting to wonder if you're not just looking for a place to crash."

He frowned, his smile disappearing. "Pun intended?" Taylor referred to the accident, where a crate at the harbor had gotten loose and crashed into him, trapping the leg between it and the ground.

"No, but it's either that or you're a bad luck magnet."

"It does seem Lady Luck has some grievances with me, despite me being such a charming fellow." He said derisively, as if he was making fun of himself.

"Maybe a shower once in a while wouldn't go amiss." Pravin noted.

His grin returned, this time rather suggestively. "Well if a nice lady like yourself would help me with that." He pointed at the cast.

To his surprise she smiled, however it wasn't too friendly. "I might find hose and cold water somewhere."

"Nevermind, just give me a washcloth and a towel. By the way; you have terrible people skills." Taylor growled and headed back to his room

"No, it is just you." Pravin said dryly, however too quietly for him to hear. During their first meeting she had been certain her repulsive feelings at the time were simply a result of exhaustion after a long week, but by now she'd noted that she only felt this way around him. It was doubtful it was because of his personality; she took care of worse every day, but still, Pravin felt uncomfortable and aggressive around Taylor. Why couldn't he just go on a ship and be gone?

She went to the station's white-tiled kitchen, and opened the cupboard, which was located well over her head. Blindly she began to search for a cup with one of her hands, when she heard the sound of a door, followed by several rather heavy footsteps; it sounded like several pair of boots. Finally her fingers found a cup's handle, though her desperately needed coffee would have to wait. In the corridor she ran across a small group of three men, all formally clothed, though under the coat of the tallest fellow she saw a black bodyglove, while the other wore Carapace armor underneath his. They appeared to be following a man of seemingly not older than forty, yet with first silver lines throughout his well trimmed black hair, and his right eye had been replaced with a cybernetic. He wore a sober grey suit under a long high-collared coat, black on the outside, red on the inside. He smiled at her friendly, his face for that matter had something very fatherly about it.

"Good day, miss." He greeted her in a warm, friendly tone. "I'm looking for a patient of yours: Taylor?"

"May I ask who you, sir?" Three men, two of them likely armed, was more than enough to appear suspicious. Her eyes shortly rested on the one in the bodyglove, his bald head scarred, his broad face looking back at her grimly. The man with the high-collared coat turned part of said collar around to show nothing less than the Inquisitorial rosette. Pravin quickly bowed her head shortly. "Apologies, my Lord, but I was obligated to ask."

He lifted his hand dismissively. "There is no reason to apologize… Medicae Pravin, is it?"

"Yes, it's Jane Pravin."

"I'd simply ask you to show me and my associates to his room."

Pravin nodded. "This way, please." She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, and sweat upon her forehead. The Inquisition was never good news, Emperor knew what he wanted from Taylor, but despite her revulsion, Pravin felt already sorry for him. She opened the door, leading to Taylor's room and let the Inquisitor and his two operatives enter. The guy wearing the Carapace armor, regarded her interested as he walked passed her, and then smiled tiredly, but kindly at her. "Do want me to wait outside, my Lord?" Please don't let her get involved any further.

"No, Miss Pravin, I'd like you to stay." Fuck.

Pravin found herself taking a deep breath before closing the door behind her. Taylor had still been driving around on his rear wheels, but had stopped once the group entered, his expression turned grave. "Don't tell me I'm being charged." You'll wish, Pravin thought.

"No, Mr. Taylor, I'm here to make you an offer."

Both Pravin and Taylor looked confused. "Like a job offer." Taylor asked suspiciously, eyeing the Inquisitor from head to toe. "Who are you anyway, and how do you know me."

Once again the Inquisitor showed his rosette. "I'm Inquisitor Basil Nicomedo of Ordo Xeno. As to how I know you, the Inquisition has countless informants, on almost every imperial world. I have been looking for you, because I'd like you to become one of my Acolytes."

What?! Pravin was taken aback to say the least. Taylor's face showed surprise, but not fear or shock as the Medicae had expected. Still, both seemed bewildered about the Inquisitor's motivation, this all didn't make much sense. "Why would you want me of all people?"

"First I have a small question: how often have you been hospitalized here?"

"Three times, but what does that has to do with anything?"

The Inquisitor lifted his hand. "Accidents?"

"Only the last time; I usually just get into fights a lot."

"You provoke them?" Where was he going with that? Pravin wondered. By now curiosity had taken the better of her; she wanted to see where this was going.

"Not that I'd be aware of."

"The reason I want to employ you is, because you belong to a rare group of people known as Untouchables. Your presence can be almost unbearable to psykers, lethal to the most powerful ones; even now I am in pain simply by standing here." The Medicae stared at him horrified, only now noticing how forces the friendly expression on his face had become. "Even to people without psychic abilities, being in close proximity to you is rather irritating and is known to prompt hostility from others."

"Figures…What exactly is it that you'd want me to do, if I were to join you?"

"Assist me on mission; some are of diplomatic nature, most involve combat against human and alien alike. It will be dangerous, for body and mind, you will kill, and you'll never return to a normal life." It seemed plain and simple, almost a rushed explanation to Pravin.

Taylor on the other hand didn't seem to be the least distressed. "Well, if what I had up to now was considered a normal life, I think I can do without. I'm in, regardless of what I'm getting into."

For the first time the man in Carapace armor spoke. "Not even a little afraid or anything?"

"Never was; maybe I just took a few too many hits to the head. Fear or reservation was never my problem, more the lack thereof."

Pravin saw the Acolyte rolled his eyes, as the Inquisitor took the word once more. "Now to you, Miss Pravin." She winced as if someone slapped her, despite his calm, deep voice, which bore no threat at all. He now held a data-slate in his right hand. "My medical bay is in desperate need of a new Medicae, and your references nominate you. You are to finish your training, with honors as I see."

Do…do I have a choice?" Her voice seemed so very high-pitched and weak, she could have smacked herself.

"I'm afraid not." He admitted, actually sounding a bit sympathetic. "I have little time to find someone suitable, in fact we'll have to leave this planet today, so I will practically conscript you. You already have devoted your life to help the men and women of the Imperium; what changes know is your clientele." The Inquisitor took a break, no one else was speaking, but looking at her. "What say you?"

What kind of question was that? Didn't he already know her answer? Jane buried her face beneath her hands, fingers gliding over her eyes. She could feel the water building up behind her eyelids and touching her fingertips, but angrily refused to cry. She was slightly shaking, as her mind realized she just lost everything: her home, friends, and family. She'd never left the planet before and now should join an Inquisitor on his crusade against monstrous aliens? It was surreal, preposterous. Maybe if she had time to process all of this…yet, there was no time.

Her next words were just a breath, in the silent room however loud enough for all to hear. "I submit."


	3. Chapter 3

The Medicae was quiet on their way back to the Adrastos, the Glider passing by the tower-like construct of the hive reaching up to the highest lairs of the atmosphere, adored with the neo-gothic design so characteristic of the Imperium of man. They were flying above the clouds, where traffic was less dense, and now as the sun was setting everything was bathed in warm orange light. Basil Nicomedo had no eye for the beautiful scenery outside, but watched her; it was obvious how unhappy she was with her situation, but he was picky when it came to his Acolytes and would not reconsider. Her skills were adequate, and a young mind was more adaptable as well as willing to learn. No, Basil didn't regret his decision, but felt sympathy for Pravin, knowing that with time she would accept her new position, maybe even value it for her chance to serve the Emperor better than she could have ever on Ibelin.

Basil turned to Seth, who sat next to him. The former Storm Trouper was furious, but he remained silent; the Psyker could feel the anger boiling in his mind without needing to invade it. Even Vega's adjustment hadn't proven as difficult as Seth; while she'd been glad not to be taken by the Black Ships, Seth felt forced into this unusual service. Basil wondered if he rued saving the Inquisitor's life when they had first met. The Inquisitor promised himself to keep an eye on him and Pravin.

Brennan meanwhile was accompanying Taylor in another Glider. After a few minutes Basil hadn't found himself able to tolerate the Untouchable's presence any longer, the pain seemingly tearing at both his body and soul. It was strange, but the other glider seemed invisible to the Inquisitor's senses, the Untouchable shielding not only himself but everyone inside. No, the Inquisitor corrected himself, it wasn't so much invisible as a blank spot in the world, as if someone had painted a canvas in bright colors but missed an area.

He sat back in his dark leather seat, and for the first time let his gaze wandering out the window, following that of Pravin. They had almost reached their port, just in time to see another ship take off. It was enormous, even larger than the Adratos, which was a light-cruiser; the only reason one of those vessels would land would be for repayments, too extensive or dangerous to be conducted in space. No one wanted a several kilometers long machine to unexpectedly crash into a spire. The metal colossus broke through the clouds like a grey whale, causing the ceiling to behave like a maelstrom, before the bright burning thrusters dispersed it, leaving a huge whole behind. The power of that engine was incredible to lift something that was barley aerodynamic. The glider descended through the clouds and out of sight of the other cruiser.

The gliders landed in one of the two hangers the Adrastos possessed, the banners usually proclaiming its purpose as an inquisitorial vessel had been removed: the private pilots of the gliders didn't need to know this little detail about their passengers. The hanger itself was empty; it was reserved for guests and only a handful of servitors were present at the moment along with Mandrake. The Interrogator waited with his hands clasped behind his back, welcoming the landing party the moment the gliders had taken off. "Welcome back, sir."

…

Jane's eyes wandered along the big, almost empty hanger, which was about 2 to 3 stories high, the giant portal closing behind the glider to seal it hermetically before takeoff. Still, the air was incredible thin, making her dizzy; a cruiser this size couldn't stay in a lower altitudes, not if you wished to keep you're fuel for actually reaching a new destination. The man who had greeted the Inquisitor was tall and rather skinny, his long brown hair tied into a ponytail. He was similar dressed to his employer, very neat and a prominent black high-collared coat, still he didn't look older than herself, somewhere in his early twenties. She could hear Taylor and the other Acolyte approach from behind, as suddenly the man flinched in obvious pain, one hand reaching for his temple. The Inquisitor turned to his Acolyte with the many scars. "Brennan, take Mr. Taylor to the medical bay immediately; I want Cicero to install the limiter as soon as possible." The giant nodded and with a gesture ordered her former patient to follow him, and without any objection Taylor obeyed, but gave the other man a worried look as the two headed for the main door, leading further into the cruiser. Only moments after they'd left the man seemed to be better.

"I didn't expect the effect to be quite as harsh." He admitted in a now rather raspy voice, drops of sweat running down the side of his face, yet for some reason he looked thrilled.

"It would have been better to await me at the bridge, Mandrake. I hope Vega will heed my warning about the Untouchable more than you."

"Certainly." He shortly looked at Jane, as if only now he's acknowledged her presence. "Everything has been prepared for our departure; Ship Master Sammael is awaiting your orders."

The Inquisitor nodded approvingly. "Good, please show Medicae Pravin to her quarters." With that her turned to her and added. "I will have Djamila Vega, another of my Acolytes, show you around the ship later today. I must ask you to stay in your room until then."

"Yes, my Lord." She replied, her tone impassive. There was no way out; the shutting hangar portal had served as rather strong visualization for her situation, as far as she was concerned.

"Please follow me, Miss Pravin." Mandrake mustered a smile, his voice warm and friendly, the first time she heard him put any emotion into it. She followed, leaving the Inquisitor and his other Acolyte behind.

…

Basil watched them leave, before turning to Seth. "I know you disapprove of my decision, but I will not reconsider."

"I know, but I slowly get the impression no one here joined you willingly."

"The Inquisition's reputation does little to get us willing applicants, leaving me no choices but to draft Acolytes from time to time. On the other hand you might want to remember that Brennan, Durai and many others approached me on their own terms." The Acolyte gave no response, his arms still crossed, and his expression showing that he wasn't convinced. Basil thought himself a patient man but the former Storm Trouper was testing his patience. "What Nelson would you have me do?"

Nelson thought about his answer; Basil could almost feel the gear wheels working, and allowed his mind to retreat from the surface of conflicting emotions, not wanting his Acolyte to notice the Inquisitor's means of observation. "Nothing, Sir. May I take my leave?"

Basil was slightly disappointed that he wouldn't get a straight answer again, but if Nelson wished to continue his alienation he would not interfere. "You're dismissed."

* * *

Wind threw around the sand like waves the ocean's water, as the small pale sun slowly climbed to its zenith. Dunes formed the only distinguishable landscape, but its' sands were cold and grey. A tremor shuck the earth and the wind died down. Suddenly the desert came to live; small reptilian and insects crawled from their holes in a panic-fueled flight, while only one thing was actually attracted by the seismic event. Soundlessly he stepped through the sand leaving only light footprints, and he was careful not to step on any native creature of the planet. His chameoline cloak merged him with his surroundings that even without using his skills of infiltration he would not have been seen by most humans. Selendir took a deep breath through his breathing mask, feeling the continuing vibration under his feet. The Ranger crouched on top of one of the highest dunes, his gaze wandering over the changing landscape. A canyon formed, several kilometers long and in its dark deeps, black shapes crawled up into the sunlight.

It had been decades since Selendir had left the path of the Dire Avengers, yet still he could sense old memories well hidden behind his war mask; he didn't remember the war, though he had met this enemy on the battlefield before. A city, no a graveyard, was lifted into the light of noon, made entirely of black stone. Sand was running down obelisks and almost pyramid-shaped temples, places of silent worship to ancient beings. The Eldar wouldn't linger for too long and watched as lines and patters of dim green light began to glow. The awakening had begun.

* * *

The room was small, furnished with a bed, wardrobe(empty) and a desk plus chair, the metal walls like the rest of the ship gun-metal grey. Her only source of light were a handful of small circular lamps, one at each wall, the largest at the ceiling; still, compared to the hospital the room seemed to be in constant twilight. It almost had the aesthetic of a prison cell, Jane thought grimly. This didn't feel at all like home, which it was going to be for the rest of her life. Her hands ran over her face as she let herself fall back onto the white sheets of her bed; at least it was comfortable. It was a losing battle with her eyes however as they fill with tears.

She heard a knock at her door and suddenly sat up, wiping away the water from her eyes, before it slid open. The Acolyte who'd been wearing the Guard's Carapace armor stood in the doorway, a bottle of what appeared Amasec in his hand. "Need a drink?"

…

The older Acolyte sat at the desk and offering her a glass filled with the bronze liquor. "So, you always invite the rookie to a drink?" Jane asked, as she took the glass with a thankful nod.

"Honestly before today, I was the new guy; but I could make this into a custom of mine." He filled in a glass for himself. "My name his Seth Nelson, by the way. I was a Storm Trouper before being recruited by Nicomedo."

"How long have you been here?"

He gazed into space, as he was counting mentally. "Almost two years." Was his conclusion. "Still not enough to grow accustom to this life."

Jane stared at him confused. "Two years seems like a long time."

"Not by inquisitorial standards." Seth noted. "Besides I got off on the wrong foot; for once I was pretty much blackmailed into duty."

"Like me?" There was something strangely relieving about this, and her thoughts calmed down.

"You could say that. I met the Inquisitor on a mission and apparently saw something I shouldn't have, some sort of Eldar artifact. I had the choice between execution and joining him."

"Does he do that often?"

"In recent years it seems to have increased, though your friend the Untouchable, was willing enough."

"He's not my friend." She snapped, more resentful than intended.

"That's lovely to hear." Both turned to see said Untouchable in the door.

Jane sighted. "Impeccable timing."

"Oh actually I've been following our innkeeper here as I was checking the ship." Taylor said, as he leaned against the wall, though leaving some space between them and himself. "My room right now reminds me too much of a cell."

Seth shrugged indifferent. "Isn't so bad once you personalized it a bit."

A frown played over the Untouchables brows. "You mean like the booze-store you keep your bed in?"

"What the fuck were you doing in my room?" He almost shouted in alert. What was up with just everyone waltzing into his room lately?

"Wow, relax." Talyor had lifted his hands defensively; he knew why he'd kept distance. "I was just passing by, when a servitor was trying to clean up." Trying had not been an exaggeration. "You two seem a little tense, so you might wanna keep drinking, but one question before I take my leave: am I still upsetting."

The other two answered as one. "Yes."

Taylor rolled his eyes. "Not because of what I said, my presence like back at the hospital. I didn't want to test it on the guy we've met in the hanger."

"Who, Mandrake? He can take it, no worries." Nelson responded. "But no, it does feel different from before. Is that the limiter?" He was pointing at a metal collar around the Untouchables neck, Jane hadn't paid attention to.

With a grin, Taylor tapped the silver metal. "Yep, a Tech-priest installed it; he was rather unsettling." He remembered. "Probably thanks to the cables he had for a face." Jane chuckled softly, earning her a smile from the Untouchable before he detached himself from the wall. "Well, with that said, I leave you to drinking; Brennan has offered me a visit to the shooting gallery and I'm running late as it is."

Seth nodded. "Have fun."Taylor closed the door and the other Acolyte turned back to Jane. "Have you ever used a weapon before, gun or otherwise?"

"No, never." She admitted. "Not the best prerequisite I presume."

"We'll teach you, and besides your main job is to keep us in one piece…preferably alive." He saw that her glass was empty and offered a refill, which she declined. "Don't worry too much; your performance is not based on your body count, more on how you can work under pressure."

"I imagine working for an Inquisitor is more stressful than a hospital; our lives were rarely at stake there."

"I really can't make the comparison, though I'm sure you can handle it. Nicomedo might not be the most considerate person you're ever going to meet, but he's generally good in judging people. He hasn't picked you out of a whim like me." His words were followed by several minutes of silence; she, lost in thoughts, staring into space, him drinking his second refill, only interrupted as an announcement echoed through the outside corridor and a speaker next to the door.

"Translation into the Warp in 30 minutes, 25 seconds." It sounded like a servitor, without any accentuation.

For the first time in her life she would be leaving the system; Jane sighed again, lifting her glass. "Hit me."

* * *

Cold sand rose from the desert and ran over the silken cloak, in the setting sun the red color glowing warm as if it was on fire. Both, robe and cloak were partially covered with white runes and Eldar symbols, the bronze rune armor adored with jewel like soulstones in sapphire blue. A white haramaki was tied around his waist, usually holding the witchblade, which now lay in front of the Eldar still in his sheath. He sat there cross-legged, his face hidden by a white helmet, surrounded by glowing runes, which were humming peacefully, as they wandered in circles around the Fareseer.

"Farseer Arhainceyl?" A Ranger had approached without a sound, his chameoline cloak merging him with his surroundings, and his face partially concealed by a breathing mask. "We have found the tomb, and it has already risen from the deeps."

"The Shrine is secured." It wasn't a question; the Farseer was well informed about all activity on the planet.

"Yes, Farseer; Exarch Cadaith and the Dark Reapers stand guard. We are ahead of schedule."

Arhainceyl opened his eyes. "Not for long and our enemies are closing in on us."

"The human, Farseer?"

"Indeed; watch him when he comes, but do not harm him, Selendir." The Fareseer stood, the runes disappearing into thin air, as he turned to face the Ranger, a single rune still floating and lazily spinning over the palm of his hand.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a bit over an hour later, Seth had left just a few minutes ago, when Jane received her next visitor. She was a woman, maybe in her thirties, wearing a Navy Warrant Officer's uniform, her short black hair swept to the left. This had to be Djamila Vega, the Psyker and pilot Seth had told her about. Vega's figure was sturdier than Jane's, probably from excessive training and field work for the Inquisition.

"My name is Djamila Vega." She introduced herself. "The Inquisitor has asked me to show you around."

Jane stood, and took her jacket, remembering well the cool temperatures in the corridors. "Jane Pravin. Seth has told me a little about you."

"Has he? I'm a little surprised he came to you in the first place."

They left into the hallway. "How so?"

"Nelson was recruited not too long ago himself. He…he never really made himself a home here, stays the outsider." Vega smiled. "Maybe that's why he came; keep you on his side."

Jane frowned, just a bit mistrustful at what felt like an exaggeration. "Think it's that bad?"

"I must admit, I've never had some sort of heartfelt conversation with him. He loves to do, what he thinks are sneaky remarks, but aside from that, is not very sociable or talkative around us, and I am usually kept busy by my duties."

"What about the other Acolytes? Brennan and Durai?"

"Brennan was a Bounty Hunter before joining, and as far as I know he is now the longest standing member of Nicomedo's band. He's been with him for at least a hundred years."

Jane was impressed. "Bounty hunting sounds like a tough life."

Vega nodded in agreement. "Aye, though he told me that he work together with some other Bounty Hunters. Could never get more of his past out of him; I think…at least a part of him, feels regret for leaving them."

With a slightly concerned look on her face Jane asked. "Is anyone on this ship, because he actually wants to?"

Vega seemed surprised by this question, but then closed her eyes and chuckled shortly. "Well, Durai I guess. He was an Arbites before he joined Nicomedo, and is probably the most zealous among us. At first he was competing against the Inquisitor during an investigation, distrusting Nicomedo for being a Psyker. The only reason he came along in the first place was to see that mission to the end. In the following two years, Nicomedo earned Durai's respect, and he decided to stay. It can still be somewhat cold between the two…hasn't really warmed up to me either."

"You joined the Inquisitor after him." Seth had given her a short run down, but not lingered on the subject of his fellow Acolytes.

"Yes, Nicomedo was also the one who found out I was a Psyker. Thanks to him, I wasn't taken by the Black Ships."

Jane blinked lost. "What are the Black Ships?"

"They are the vessels, which bring Psykers to Terra, to either be trained for numerous rolls like Astropath, or be sacrificed to our God Emperor. I was too old to attend to the Scholastia Psykana, and while giving my life to the Emperor is honorable, I preferred the alternative to live and fight alongside the Inquisitor." While not looking at the Medicae, as they walked through the corridor, Vega smiled, grateful and sincere. "Nicomedo was allowed to train me, seeing as I'm not a very powerful Psyker. I can to a bit of telekinesis, telepathy, you know read a few weak minds and influence people. I'm just an Epsilon, low Delta if you're being generous, which are the lowest grades Psykers can be measured as."

Jane ran her finger forcefully over her forehead, as if she was trying to get rid of a headache. "I have the feeling, I have a lot to learn here."

"Certainly, after all there is much knowledge that is denied to the public. Sadly means we have to serve the Inquisition for our entire life, so if you ever planned on having a family: it is no longer an option to any of us. Some things that we know is considered too dangerous, believed to cause doubt in the faithful, even lead to heresy."

"And we are allowed to know?"

"A few more things than the common folk, yes; a necessary evil." Vega stopped at the stairway. "So, how about I show you the med bay?"

…

The med bay made up most of the deck below, capable of holding dozens of patients, a large lab and storage rooms for any kind of supplies. The two women entered the white painted lab where a man, dressed in a red robe stood, studying four computer screens simultaneously. There was something unusual about his breathing, like he was using a respirator.

"Lieutenant Vega and Medicae Pravin; I have been expecting you." The small man turned around and bowed."I am Cicero, Tech-priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus, I'll be assisting you here on the medical bay." He said directed at Pravin. Like Taylor had described, there was little remaining of his original face, tubes and cables taking up most of it, two green glasses replacing his eyeballs; all in all it look more like an archaic breathing mask. It would take some getting used to, since Jane had never seen someone with such extended augmentation.

"Cicero is a wonderful surgeon and makes all our cybernetics. He is also responsible for Mr. Taylor's collar." Vega explained.

This reminded the Medicae about something she'd be wondering about, ever since Inquisitor Nicomedo had explained what a Blank was. "Yes, I have noticed that his presence has become more pleasant. I was wondering if Blanks can control their effect on people."

"Oh, Mr. Taylor is not just a Blank; he's a true Pariah, meaning the Gene giving him his qualities is dominant. The Limiter creates a sort of force field, making his presence endurable, though upon touch the field is breached and leaves one victim to his properties." The Tech-priest explained. "The contact would merely be uncomfortable for you and me, but Psykers like Lieutenant Vega would be drained of their energies, even be killed. However he cannot control it, under stress the range might increase, yet it cannot be guided, making the collar a necessity. I should mention that we still prefer to call him a Blank, seeing as Pariah is also the term for certain type of Necron warriors."

"Necrons?"

"Ah, they are a xenos species of immortal machines. The Necrons are ancient beyond reckoning, and begin their raids upon the living from tomb like structures, where they have lain dormant for thousands of years. They appear as a legion of undead skeletons, driving by a terrible darkness that only seeks the death of every living thing. When they conquer a planet everything, even the tiniest microorganisms, is eradicated."

"Maybe that's enough." Vega's voice became sharp, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the Tech Priest. She had noticed how pale Jane had become.

The Medicae was certain Cicero would have looked confused if the cables and tubes hadn't been in the way. "I do not believe I have said anything out-of-order."

"That is not the point." She looked at the newest Acolyte worried. "Maybe we should continue this another time."

…

Soon Jane was back in her chambers, according to the clock it was about 11pm onboard the ship, yet she found no sleep. She had turned the lights out, except for what little came from under the door. Emotionally Jane felt completely exhausted, and what she had learned today seemed like horrible foreshadowing. Everyone knew of Orks, the death and destruction they brought to countless worlds, everyone knew of the danger coming from heretics, and even reports of the elusive xenos known as Eldar had come to her hears from Rouge Traders or Imperial Guardsman, who visited Ibelin from time to time. And now there were immortal robots, determined to wipe out all forms of life? She wasn't even onboard for 24 hours and already this galaxy had become much more terrifying.

Why did Horaz Taylor have to be her patient? Could not have someone else taken care of him? If it weren't for him, she perhaps wouldn't be here. Of course Jane couldn't blame him; such a thought was just bitter. Hadn't she been on a list for potential candidates? The Inquisitor would have recruited her either way as it seemed. How unfortunate they had required a new Medicae, but as Vega had said: she was here to stay. Jane didn't think she could be like Seth, and fight this reality. As difficult as it would be, learning to accept it was her only true option. But tonight that was only a concept, a agenda for tomorrow, tonight she cried, feeling slowly a great weight being lifted from her mind, as tears ran though her fingers.

* * *

Selendir returned to the temple, the white stone emerging from the sand like pale bones. He could see the dark figures of Aspect Warriors standing silent guard over this sacred place. It had been abandoned for thousand of years, even before the Fall, and he couldn't help, but felt humbled by the scale and significance of this construct.

"You have returned late, Selendir." He almost jumped at the soft female voice, suddenly coming from his right. Another Eldar stood there, dressed similarly to him, but even he had not heard her coming, for she was a Pathfinder, her existence devoted to the lifestyle of the Outcast and Ranger. A Pathfinders was an expert in stealth and their accuracy feared; they could somewhat be considered the equivalent of an Exarch. "We have located one of the central generators."

The young Ranger nodded. "Yes, I have seen their tombs lifting from the sands. I fear the first will awake soon."

Yaidev nodded, now for the first time looking at him with her almost black eyes. "I had advised a swift strike against our enemy, but Arhainceyl would not listen."

"A strange move of an army hailing from Saim-Hann."

"He has been a Farseer for too long, I fear. He sees so many options, and too far into the future to react properly to a battle situation. His prophecies have saved our home before, but he should have stayed there, and let a Warlock or Autarch see to our mission."

Selendir did not answer. He had heard about a personal history between Yaidev and the Farseer, back when she had trodden upon the Path of the seer herself; their families had always been in conflict with each other. Yaidev herself had once fought in a duel, fortunately only to first blood, allowing her opponent to walk away on his own feet. Farseer Arhainceyl was also the reason her family had not come to join this mission, along with several others, shrinking their army dangerously. An Autarch as respected as Cerandil perhaps, could have convinced them to join forces, but the Farseer was prideful and determined to lead. Selendir suspected the mon-keigh Inquisitor to have a part in this too.

"Go back to the tower, and prepare yourself with the others. We hunt tonight." There were actually no ranks among the Rangers, but as the most senior, Yaidev held a certain authority. If she led the Outcasts would follow.

…

She watched Selendir return to their camp. Usually Yaidev travelled alone, only rarely taking another Outcast with her. It had been some years, since she'd fought with a larger Eldar force; her last battle had been with a clan of Harlequins, not an army from a craftworld. How many years had it been? Saim-Hann seemed little more than a memory, a place she rarely visited. Her home was now a small vessel, bringing her anywhere she wanted to go. Yaidev closed her eyes as her thoughts went to the friends she'd left behind, when she'd taken up the path of the Outcast. Three of them were travelling upon the path of the Warrior; Talranis rode with the Shining Spears, and Naverhan was a Warp Spider, his attacks now as sudden as his mood swings. Her friend had been an Aspect Warrior for some time now, almost as long as she was an Outcast, a sign that he might become lost on his path. Yaidev feared this though; when an Eldar became an Exarch, and first put on the armor, his or her spirit was linked with all who had worn this armor before. The individual ceased to exist, replaced by the original Exarch, now possessing the memories of all his successors.

Only since recently, Elowyn too was following the call of the bloody handed God. It had brought her to the shrine of the Swooping Hawks, and on this world she would fight her first battle. Yaidev prayed she survive, and rid herself of the anger within her, so she could leave the path again. Elowyn had always been a gentle soul, imagining her as a warrior was an abstract though indeed, but the Path did things to people, bringing forth sides of one, you never knew you had.

Yaidev glanced one more time to the temple ruin. Once she'd been a Dark Reaper, Cadaith had been her Exarch. She wondered if the current wearer of the armor was the same as to her time, but she wouldn't try to find out; she probably didn't know either of them, and for the Exarch such things were unimportant. He wouldn't understand her interest in the question. She suppressed her nostalgia, and followed her fellow ranger. They had made camp in a tower not far from the temple. Several of these tall white constructs rose from the sands like bony fingers, the building they originally belonged to had not been unearthed and they made good viewpoints over the terrain, over this lifeless plateau.

Ten Outcasts had come to this place, only Yaidev was considered a Pathfinder. The other still thought of returning their respected craftworlds, while she was no longer desirous of following the Paths. The though almost scared her. Her fellow Outcast greeted her with welcoming gestures, as she went up the stairs to one the highest rooms. In the circular room was only a makeshift bed and weapons. For what she planned to do, Yaidev would need explosives. She equipped herself and checked her beloved Long Rifle. In her three centuries as an Outcast this one had been her constant companion. It was then, when soft footsteps emerged from the stairway, not a Ranger, as they were too heavy in comparison.

"Pathfinder Yaidev."

She knew this voice, for many years she'd called this man her friend. With a smile on her lips Yaidev turned to meet her guest. "Naverhan, I had not expected to meet you away from the battlefield."

The Warp Spider was dressed in his red, white and black colored armor, his helmet removed so she could look upon his face with the for Eldar usual slim face and sharp features. His black hair was now short, probably to fit beneath the tight helmet, and as he was not called to battle yet, no rune of his Aspect was drawn on his forehead with blood. His smile was short-lived, his expression soon turning solemn, his body blocking the doorway. "Am afraid this is no social visit, duty has brought me here. The Farseer believes you plan to strike against his instructions."

"And he sends you to stop me?"

"Our acquaintance was thought to be beneficial. You don't deny your intentions?"

"I'm here of my own volitions; I could go just as easily. As an Outcast I am not his subject."

She didn't like the pitiful look on his face. "I thought you were beyond old family quarrels."

"Even without, I feel compelled to act against such foolishness. Does he suggest we fight the Necrontyr once they have all awakened?" Naverhan had always been her friend, fighting him was not what she desired, but he was bound to his Shrine, and had to obey his superiors.

"You should trust his judgment." He had never seemed this naïve.

"My life has granted me certain flexibility toward orders. I only try to do what is best for my people."

"Is it not because he refuted your prophecy?" Yaidev almost bared her teeth; this was getting too personal for her liking and her words became cooler.

"I was an inexperienced seer, and not just him but my own teacher saw the error in my divination."

"He's slandered you." He reminded her, his tone neutral, impassive.

"You must think of me as very petty."

"And yet, not only did you leave the Seer's path, but left Saim-Hann all together."

Yaidev was mute for a while. "Like many in my place, the first strands of fate I followed were those of me and my friends. I had a realization: the changes the Path subjects us to do not help us develop or grow, we literally become someone else, and when we leave the Path, we leave a part of us behind. Naverhan the Healer is not Naverhan the Warp Spider, even if he's without the war-mask, Yaidev the Poet not Yaidev the Bonesinger. I felt I had lived the lives of others, and didn't know anything about myself. Only astray from the Paths could I truly live and experience for myself, do whatever I wished to do. I write poems whenever I feel like it, form art from wraithbone or steer my ship to far away worlds, gathering knowledge like I was trotting upon the Path of the Scholar."

Suddenly he seemed emotionally involved in their discussion, concern lingered in his voice and eyebrows knit. "It is dangerous. Is it all worth risking your soul to eternal torment? We experience every aspect of ourselves separately for a good reason; restriction and discipline keep us away from excesses and the attention of her." Both shuddered uncomfortably at the mention of She who Thirsts.

"It is not a form of excess to be lost on the Path? Does an Exarch not always crave for battle and bloodshed, unable to take off the very war-mask, supposed to spare us to horrors and trauma of war?" Yaidev looked almost pleading at her old friend. "I have overcome countless temptations in my life, denied myself many things. I have been with the Exodites, who never made use of the Paths, and yet do not succumb to our darker sides...This is how I wish to live."

He looked at her calm, yet somewhat disappointed. "You'll go regardless."

"Would you stop me?" She hated herself for having to ask.

Naverhan moved aside, opening up the doorway. "How could I? I shall report, but stand in your way I cannot." He looked at her again. "I hope you know what you're doing."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, you're alright?" Taylor stood on the other side of the table, bending himself a bit sideways to get on eye level with Jane. It was morning and the two were currently in the ships canteen, where Jane sat at one of the three long tables.

She looked up from her breakfast, some sort of cereal with fruits she could not identify and a slice of toast. "Fine, just tired. I've never slept on a ship before. You on the other hand look perfectly at home."

His hand ran a few times over the back of his neck, or more precisely his collar. "Well, I served on several ships before. So far this has been little different from all my other jobs. Is that eatable?" He added, pointing at the cereal bowl.

"It's not bad." That was all the encouragement he needed, before he ran off to get his own breakfast, with Jane staring a bit perplex after him, at this abrupt departure.

"Quite good-natured, this one." A deep voice noted close by. Lucien Brennan sat down beside her, his tall brawny figure and scarred head, a striking difference to the warm tone of his voice. "Maybe a bit rash."

"Sounds like him. Mr. Brennan is it?"

He lifted a hand, palm facing her. "Just Brennan, keep the Mr. I'd like to ask how you're holding up so far; Djamila told me you had a rough evening."

Embarrassment made her flush a little. "It was just a bit much for one day. 24hours ago I was in the hospital not suspecting a thing…As it is, I feel unsuited and completely green." Jane admitted.

"That will change soon enough." Brennan assured her. "I suppose you've never handled a weapon before?"

"Is that the first question anybody asked on this ship?" A hint of annoyance hung in her voice.

He shrugged. "We always get into fights, so it is rather vital, should you intend to survive. Nicomedo will see you and Taylor later this morning, if you want I could instruct you later this afternoon."

She felt her mood lightening up. "I'd appreciate that."

"You know where our shooting gallery is?"

"No." Truthfully, Jane knew barely anything about the ship. Judging from its size guideposts wouldn't go amiss.

"Good, then I pick you up at your room at two."

Taylor came back, who'd only heard this last sentence, and sat down. "What are you planning?" He asked, judging from his eye-movement counting scars, as he looked at the other man.

"Training." Brennan clarified. "Would you like to join us; I'd be interested to see how you shoot."

The Untouchable shrugged. "Can't hurt to practice. The only gun I've ever handled was a Stub Pistol."

A smile formed on the other man's lips. "You're with the Inquisition now, and you will have much more efficient and reliable weapons at your disposal."

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "You have Plasma Guns that don't blow up in your face?" This reminded Jane about several nasty burns and severed limbs, from Plasma weapons injuries, and she made the decision to stay away from those.

"Depends on how well you treat its Machine Spirit."

"Alright, I keep my hands of those." Taylor declared.

* * *

It was quiet on the bridge, during the travel through the immaterium there was little to do for the Adrastos' Ship Mistress. For sixty-eight years Vivian Sammael served exclusively Inquisitor Nicomedo, providing her ship and crew. She still partook in trade, but the Rogue Trader had to be more careful than before; Nicomedo kept an eye on her wares. If he wanted, or deemed it necessary, he could claim the ship and get himself a new Ship Master, and so everything she sold and bought was actually legal. Even with these changes, Mistress Sammael's life did not lack excitement; just a few months ago, Nicomedo and his operatives had boarded another merchant's ship, which had send a distress signal, only to find a pack of Genestealers had slaughtered everyone. One of those monsters had managed to come onboard the Adrastos, and slaughter seven of her crew before she'd shot it. Not many people dare to scold an Inquisitor, but she had been respectful enough as to do it in private, by which she meant a conveniently empty hallway. If the echo had carried her voice to other parts of the ship, whoever had heard it was smart enough never to mention it.

This morning the Inquisitor stood beside her, waiting for the newest of his Acolytes. "I hope you've decided well."

His gaze moved over to her. "Time was as usual not in our favor, but I believe for what little we had, the choice was good."

"Will they agree?"

Nicomedo's look turned somewhat smug, his voice now with a cynical underlining. "Would you like to choose next time?"

"Such an honor, yet I must pass; my other duties are keeping me terribly busy." She replied in kind.

"Pity."

Both turned around when the door opened, a tall young man with long, messy, black hair, and a slender young woman with auburn hair walked in. The man seemed relaxed, his eyes bright blue eyes curious examining the bridge, while their new Medicae green ones looked wary. In Sammael's mind there was no question who would have a more difficult time fitting in.

…

The bridge was a brightly lit room, essentially consisting of two platforms. Jane and Taylor found themselves on the smaller circular upper one, where at the railing, the Inquisitor and a woman in a black, white and red uniform, similar to those of the Imperial Navy, stood. The railing, she noticed, was shaped like several eagles, connected at the tips of their wings. Two stairways, one left, the other to the right, led downstairs to the larger semicircular platform, where several crew members were operating the ship from; dozens of monitors were relaying data to them, cabals covering the few free spaces along the wall. Usually one could look upon the material universe through five tall, ogival windows, which were so characteristic for imperial neo-gothic architecture. Each of them was about two meter wide, and six high, as far as Jane could judge. Right now, red curtains covered the view to the warp, the Inquisitorial rosette printed on them in gold.

"Mr. Taylor, Medicae Pravin; may I welcome you on the bridge of our ship, and its Mistress, Vivian Sammael." Inquisitor Nicomedo greeted them.

"A pleasure to meet you." Ship Mistress Sammael assured the Acolytes, her voice warm and sincere. Only now, Jane noted the Rapier on her belt.

Taylor took the word for them both. "The pleasure is ours."

The Inquisitor clapped his hands together. "Now with that said, I have called for you to brief you on the nature of our mission. As we speak the Adrastos makes for the planet Petra, while in imperial space, it has never been colonized, since it possesses almost no natural resources, and its continents consist mostly of lifeless deserts. Gathered on information we found during a previous mission on Tanis, we now know of ruins, precious to the Eldar." Taylor halfheartedly lifted a finger, like a student in a classroom. "Yes, Taylor?"

"Wasn't Tanis the planet where you recruited Seth Nelson?"

"Nelson has told you?" There was slight curiosity in his eyes.

"He has mentioned the planet's name, but didn't tell me anything you found there."

The Inquisitor nodded. "Then for clarification I might as well tell you now: The Eldar Farseer I'm pursuing had guided Orc pirates to Tanis in order to distract planetary forces. When the aliens were about to be defeated, Aspect Warrior joined the conflict, who not only killed Nelson's comrades, but directed my attention towards Tanis; Orc and Eldar activities on the same planet are rarely coincident." His expression turned remorseful as he continued. "I misjudged the power of the Farseer, and he along with his warlocks killed several of my Acolytes. He ordered his Aspect Warriors to finish us off, and left to finish his mission. During the following fight Nelson found us, saving my life, when he shot a Banshee, who'd almost cut me to pieces."

Lord Nicomedo pointed at the cybernetic right eye. "Her Shuriken Pistol caused this. We survived, and I needed Nelson to continue the pursuit; back then he was just grateful to have found another human being, and joined me without a second thought. What we've found were ancient ruins: the Farseer had already left the planet at that point, however we were able to translate some texts. They listed another temple on Petra, safeguarding Eldar artifacts. I do not know their nature, but when they are this important to the Farseer, it demands the Inquisition's attention. Our mission is therefore simply: find the Farseer and stop him."

Jane swallowed troubled by this tale, and despite being intimidated by the Inquisitor raised her voice, which for some reason sounded higher than usual. "If your Acolytes have been defeated by him before, sir, will the handful of us be enough to stop him?"

He looked patient and kindly at her. "A valid point. I have searched for an Untouchable like Taylor here so I may face the Farseer again; his properties will hopefully drain the xeno of his powers. Of course it will also affect me, but my as I'm not as powerful, so I should endure it longer, long enough for a finishing blow. Secondly I have contacted a fellow Inquisitor who is currently in charge of a Deathwatch Killteam, Space Marines from different chapters, who were brought together to fight xenos, where other armed forces in our service do not suffice, and he has agreed to assist us." Lord Nicomedo looked into the round. "Are there any more questions at this point?...No? Good, then you are dismissed. You have two weeks to prepare yourselves; make good use of it."

Jane bowed, Taylor nodded, and together they left the bridge. Once the door had closed behind them, Jane put a hand on the wall next to her to support herself, the other covering her mouth, as she suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

"Nervous?" Why did his voice have to sound so gleefully?

"Shut your mouth, Taylor." She snapped back, trying to make her legs stop shaking.

He paused. "Want me to try to say something to make you feel better?" There was some sincerity in his words.

Her voice turned annoyed and sarcastic. "And listen to more empty phrases, boy do I." Feeling slightly better, Jane detached herself from the wall and started walking again, regretting what she'd said. "Sorry, about that. I'll see you later."

…

"You haven't told them about the Necrons." Samael remark critically, when the two had left.

Nicomedo sighed. "Don't you think that was enough for one day?"

* * *

Nine Eldar jetbikes glided with high-speed over the desert. Since they were piloted by Outcasts, they all displayed different color schemes; red of Saim-Hann, black from Ulthwé, blue and yellow from Aliatoc, as well as white for Biel-Tan. Yaidev was leading them to one of the generators; as powerful as Necrontyr were, they were essentially machines, and like anything required energy to work. The Pathfinder hoped that destroying a total of four major power-plants would weaken the enemy's forces, enough to be destroyed once and for all. If Saim-Hann wasn't willing, another craftworld would.

To her surprise, Selendir hadn't joined them, in fact he had never returned to the tower, as she'd been told by her fellow Rangers. This did not bode well, and she'd left sooner than planned. It was night, and two small moons loomed in the sky, still the Eldar were not troubled by the darkness. By the time a thin line appeared on the horizon, indicating the dawning sun, more jetbikes joined them. Yaidev watched them, studying their paint job. She clenched her hands tighter around the steering of her bike, when she saw the symbol, all of them had on their vehicles. Saim-Hann Wild Riders from Arhainceyl's family. They were here to stop them, the question was: how far would they go?

"Yaidev?" A fellow Ranger, Nuradin asked, clearly worried by the Wild Riders' presence.

"I suspect they intend to attack us. If they do I give the signal, we decrease speed, and head straight for the chasms east from here. In open terrain we are nothing but prey." Yaidev instructed.

It came as she'd feared. Shuriken fire was opened on them; one jetbike got hit, cut to pieces along with its pilot. The remaining eight hit the brakes almost simultaneously, taking the Riders by surprise. Like a school of fish, the Outcasts turned east, as fast as their bikes could. Their hunters came after them, shuriken flying around them, but thankfully only touching the machines and pilots without causing injuries. Five minutes later a labyrinth of chasms came in sight, opening the ground below them, and bracing herself Yaidev prepared mentally. Once over the canyon, her jetbike dropped dozens of meters, her stomach seemingly moving up her insides, before stopping her fall and disappearing behind a turn, several shuriken digging themselves into the orange stone.

Behind another rock formation Yaidev turned 180°, as two of her fellow Rangers flew pass her, followed by three Riders. Now being at the rear, the Pathfinder opened fire in return, cutting down, one Rider before they became aware of her presence. The other two attempted to evade, but one was decapitated, the other misjudged speed in an abrupt turn, crashing against the rock wall.

However not all was a success. In their flight, the Outcasts had separated, and four had already fallen to the Riders. Yaidev could feel her anger boiling up, and she spoke the ritual lines, from her times as a Dark Reaper. For once in over a hundred years, she put on her war-mask, her mind calming down. More than ever before she was out for blood. Before throwing herself into battle she spoke to the other two rangers at her side.

"Leave the chasms; we regroup at Vaul's Bay. I will try to save Nuradin."

"As you command." Rawiyah answered her.

Yaidev headed back, feeling a certain joy at the expectation of bloodshed. She kept low, as above her Riders showed up, four of them hunting down the last surviving Ranger. Like a shark she came from the depths, firing at the pursuers. The first at the right was torn apart, and she rushed by the other three, until she was in front and above them. Shuriken flew past her, as she reached for something at her belt. With a push on the button, Yaidev let go of a plasma grenade, which exploded just when the Riders passed it. Two were directly hit, the other smashed against the rocks. There was undeniable satisfaction in their killing for the Pathfinder.

Nuradin was still ahead of her, save for now. Yaidev counted how many she had killed; seven killed out of eleven. She had to adjust her body count, when two Riders intercepted Nuradin, their fire killing the young Ranger, lifting him off the seat. Filled with rage, Yaidev let out a war cry, only meters away from her enemies, arm outstretched. Once she had walked on the Seer's Path; she had kept the two runes she'd been given during her training, one for divination, the other for combat. It was the latter, which now started glowing as lighting arose from her hand. The strikes hit one, the smoking remains falling down, while the other received more of her shuriken. Just in the last second, Yaidev managed to slow down, and not crash into their still hovering bikes.

Another two remained, but now all but two Outcast were slain. She had every right, every right to avenge her fallen kin…no, Yaidev spoke the words, and let go of her war-mask again. Memories of the fight not moments ago left along with it. All she knew was that she had to leave. She knew she had killed, she knew who had died, but no longer how it had happened; she might as well only been told about it. For ten minutes the Pathfinder flew alone, following a river only two meters below her. The last of the Raiders attack her.

She could have killed them if she tried, but then only more would be send out. No, she needed to die, she needed them to believe she had died. Later she could come up with something for Fenryl and Rawiyah. Three kinds of grenades were in her pockets, and on her belt. Yaidev activated one, and thick almost black smoke filled the air, as she slowed down. In total she threw three of four, before jumping off her bike. Through the smoke no one saw her fall; all one could see, even with Eldar eyes, was her jetbike exploding as it hit the rocks straight ahead in enemy fire. It was the last thing she saw, and the last thing she felt was how she impacted on the water surface.

* * *

"Farseer Arhainceyl. Our task is complete." The two Wild Riders had returned by dawn, the only survivors of the mission.

Arhainceyl looked remorseful, and pained by the tragedy of last night. "The Outcasts are all dead."

"We've seen to it. Three spiritstones have been destroyed, or at least could not be found, the others have been recovered."

"Good, you may go." The Riders bowed and left. It had been necessary: Arhainceyl believed as much. The tragedy of last night, the death of the Riders and the Outcasts alike was preferable to the death of every single Eldar on this planet.

* * *

The sun stood high in the sky, when Yaidev opened her eyes again. She was floating on her back, carried by the river's current towards Vaul's Bay. Every single bone of her body hurt, something was surely broken or sprained. As she moved an arm, she corrected herself: dislocated. With only one arm, Yaidev swam to the bank, her Long Rifle moving back and forth on her back. She had left the canyon, and now conifers lined the water at both sides. With all her strength she pulled herself out of the water, got back on her feet, and walked up to the nearest trunk. The Pathfinder aimed, before slamming her shoulder against the tree, the sudden impact bringing the bone back into place. Yaidev grunted in pain, and slid down the trunk. She needed to rest, she needed to sit here for just a while to regain her strength. Somewhere downriver Fenryl and Rawiyah were waiting for her.

…

Vaul's Bay was at the foot of a no longer active volcano. Geysers and lakes, their water made colorful by bacteria and minerals, dominated the landscape. It was also the only known place on the planet, where the grass was green, at least what little there was. The desert wind had already dried Yaidev's cloths and hair at this point; after all she'd been walking for over an hour. She traveled along the Bay in search for her comrades, though it seemed they would have an easier time finding her. When she reached the beach, the Eldar saw smoke emerging in the distance. It could be a natural event, some plant could have caught fire; though the volcano itself was quiet, lave still crept over the landscape some times. After last night however, she couldn't convince herself to such optimism.

Her fears were confirmed, the burning wrecks of two jetbikes lay to her feet, one blue the other white. The sweet, disgusting smell of burning bodies was in the air. Yaidev collapsed on her knees, staring at the dying flames in disbelieve. They were all dead, she had been unable to save anyone, but had led them to their deaths instead, because they would follow her and not Arhainceyl. She covered her face with her hands, and wept. This should not have happened. Saim-Hann had sadly become somewhat infamous for fighting their kin at times. It was rightfully considered barbaric in Yaidev's eyes, but for the most part such conflicts were settled by duels to first blood, not slaughter. The Pathfinder cursed the Farseer's name, cursed the way he'd chosen, for he had declined so many other possible futures where this could have been avoided.

After minutes of mourning her comrades, she slowly took her hands down. Alone there was little she could do. Should she kill the Farseer, or wait for a more convenient time, and first direct her attention towards the Necrontyr? Time to think was what Yaidev now required and she activated a small console made of wraitbone, a piece of her own starship. It would probably take hours before it reached the bay, but it would give her time to collect her thoughts.

* * *

After travelling for twelve days, the Adrastos reached Petra orbit. Below them the planet shone in grey and red, the scanner however, showed a much more active picture. Several energy readings indicated artificial activity on one of the largest plateaus. It looked systematical, like drawn with a ruler, leading to a high active center.

"At least we know where to find the Necrons." Sammael said, her arms crossed, eyes reading the initial scans. "Atmosphere, air breathable but short on oxygen; I recommend a breathing apparatus for longer visits to the surface."

"Noted, no sign of Eldar?" Nicomedo stood once again beside her, though he watched the planet through the windows, the curtains now removed.

She raised a questioning eyebrow. "Of course not; did you honestly expect any?"

"Truthfully: no. However I wouldn't mind a bit of good fortune."

"Mistress Sammael, Milord Inquisitor." A crewman suddenly addressed them. "We've received a message from the planet."

Both were surprised. "Human origin?" Nicomedo asked, though he probably already knew the answer to that.

"No, sir. The dispatcher identifies itself as Eldar."

"Bring it on the monitor." A second later the message appeared on the monitor Sammael had been studying only moments ago, and now both found themselves leaning over it, reading.

"A meeting?" Sammael finally said.

Nicomedo remained silent; a strange request. After a few minutes he said. "Have the Aquila Lander prepared for takeoff. I'll take Djamila and Brennan for a walk."

* * *

Djamila was safely piloting the Aquila Lander through the dense cloud ceiling above Petra. The coordinates from the message turned out to be away from the plateaus, but in the plains, where rain clouds gathered and rained until they were empty. A conifer forest had grown there, with several clearings; even from high above the vegetation seemed sickly. Nicomedo kept his eyes on the scanner as they approached their destination, where he found the only life-sign aside from plants. Whoever had contacted them had apparently come alone. Djamila slowed down, and landed in a clearing, about fifty meters from the trees, as well as a lone figure sitting cross-legged on the ground. The monitors verified it was an Eldar.

"You still want to go alone?" Brennan stood directly behind him in his grey bodyglove and carapace armor, the breathing mask hanging around his neck.

"Yes; if they want me dead, I doubt even you could protect me. Simply follow my instructions."

Clearly discontented, Brennan nodded nonetheless. "As you wish."

"Weapons are active, milord." Djamila informed them, already holding on to the control, thumb close to the bright red trigger.

The Inquisitor smiled at her. "Good, but don't get too enthusiastic."

And so Nicomedo left the shuttle on his own, down the stairs to the grey sand, which was running over his leather boots, as they sank into the loose material. The Eldar had stood up, and waited for him to approach. With careful steps the Inquisitor came closer, a hand always close to his Bolt Pistol. When only two meters separated them, the xeno took off its breathing mask, as well as the hood. It was a woman, beautiful like all of her people seemed to human, her black eyes regarding her surroundings vigilantly, her brown hair tightly bound together into a high ponytail. She still had made no move to reach for her weapons, only made a respectful nod towards Nicomedo.

"Inquisitor." She greeted him, her voice soft and pleasant to the ear.

"Ranger, I presume." He responded without returning the nod, his mind sweeping the area for potential threats.

"I am known as the Pathfinder Yaidev, and I have only come to talk with you."

A hint of sarcasm was lingering in his first word. "Undoubtedly; from what I've heard about Pathfinders, I would not have made it off the stairs, if you'd intended to kill me. What is it that you want?"

"You know what evil rests beneath the ashes of Petra?"

"The Necrons."

"Yes, I sought to destroy them, but the Farseer stopped me, fearing my actions would somehow endanger our people. Folly, as I see it. He is focused on his own agenda, and hopes to leave this world before the Necrontyr march once again over the plains. Our forces are too small to face them."

"What does the Farseer seek then?"

A smile formed on the xeno's lips. "You have been on Tanis, Inquisitor, you should know by now. I don't wish harm to my kin, so I'd like to propose a deal to you."

Everyone knew, even Guardsmen, that Eldar could not be trusted. Whatever help Eldar offered, there were always strings attached, there was always the point when mankind's usefulness was at its end, and the xenos would turn on them. Basil frowned, his eyes narrowed. "What kind of deal?"

"Instead of going after the Farseer and his army, you'll help me destroy the generators, feeding the energy to the dormant Necrontyr. Once they are defeated, or at least again rest beneath the sands, I will give you Farseer Arhainceyl alone, so you may end your hunt."

"Why would you give up your honored Farseer?"

He could have sworn to see a brief sign of anger in her features. "Yesterday he has killed my fellow rangers, and I myself narrowly escaped. He brings strife among my people, and I have come to believe that his death will spare Saim-Hann much suffering in the future. I know him longer than you are alive, Inquisitor; I would not be proposing this deal, if I didn't deem it necessary."

"Then why wouldn't you just kill him?"

"You wouldn't have a reason to help me, if I did." The Pathfinder explained calmly.

"And I can trust you?" Such an unnecessary question, but something made him ask.

She straightened herself, and for a second there was a glare in her eyes, as if his words had offended her somehow. "Outcast or not, I'm a daughter of Saim-Hann, and we highly value our honor. I'll keep my end of the bargain, Inquisitor. You have an hour to decide." Nicomedo could watch how her contours merged with the surrounding terrain, until she disappeared in the forest's shadows.

…

Yaidev waited close by. She felt tired, and the loss of her companions was still so very fresh in her memory. Arhainceyl would pay dearly; this personal competition had gone on long enough, and went too far; that he would kill them all, just because of her. Yaidev prayed to Morai-Heg, the Farseer would not search for her thread again, and cripple her plans.

She knew the Inquisitor wouldn't trust her, and she herself wouldn't give him this courtesy, yet alone there was no way she could stop the Necrontyr. The temple would never be unearthed in time, she was certain of it. 41minutes.

…

Nicomedo returned to the shuttle, slowly walking up the stairs. He was of the Ordo Xenos, it was his duty to destroy the alien wherever he found it. Never having faced Necrons before, it was difficult to judge their threat compared to that of the Eldar. Brennan stood outside at the doorway, arms crossed, eyes regarding the Inquisitor pensively.

"You have listened." Basil assessed, running his fingers over the short stubble of his beard.

"Aye, and I know this Eldar."

"The one you've told me about?"

Brennan nodded. "I doubt there are many Pathfinders named Yaidev, hailing from Saim-Hann. Will you accept the deal?"

"I'm considering. "He admitted. "Do you think her trustworthy?"

"She kept her end of the bargain once before; compared to the rest of her kind, yes, she seems trustworthy. And if this time we face an army instead of just his personal guard, I don't think we stand a chance of getting to the Farseer on our own, and the Deathwatch is days away from this system." The Bounty Hunter explained, helping himself to a smoke. "Besides, should he escape, we at least stopped the Necron threat."

"Sadly the Ordo does not look kindly to these sorts of deals."

"Does this minor detail have to be in your report?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I suppose not. An old man like me sometimes forgets this and that." Brennan replied with an amused snort, smoke emerging from his nostrils. "Would you like to tell her?"

"For old times' sake?"

"So to speak." Nicomedo hoped the xeno would be more trusting around someone she worked with before, give up more information, but an alien mind was twisted. Still, worth a try.

"You want me to tell her you said hi?"

…

A smoke later, Brennan was trudging through the ash-like sands towards the tree line. He took a deep breath from his breathing mask. Despite the trees there was little oxygen in the air; maybe the plants got too little sunlight. Conifers loomed over him, their branches moving in the cool wind. There were no birds, not even insects in the air, so besides his own steps, there was no sound.

Once he'd reached the trees, a figure emerged from the shadows. "Lucien Brennan." Yaidev greeted him. She hadn't changed in all these years, while he had gained numerous new scars. Had she visited the Ikram again? He missed the ship, he missed the crew, his friends and colleagues, and the Bounty Hunter wondered if they were all still alive.

"Yaidev, hadn't thought I'd see you again." True, he'd thought, hoped, to have seen the last of this alien over a hundred years ago.

"You have joined the Inquisition."

He nodded, keeping his distant to the Eldar. "Not too long after you departed from the Ikram."

"Repentance then?" She suggested.

"Because we've fought alongside once? No, Nicomedo made an offer, I accepted; all things considered I'm still a loyal subject of the Imperium." Brennan declared. "I'm here because the Inquisitor has an answer for you."

Her eyes closed, as she waited for whatever the Acolyte was about to say. "We're in."


	6. Chapter 6

With a mixture of vigilance and curiosity, Jane regarded the Eldar Inquisitor Nicomedo had brought onboard the Adrastos. It was certainly exciting; the first alien being she'd ever seen. The Inquisitor had made sure the xeno wasn't carrying any weapons, though the Medicae had little doubt that the Eldar could fight them, if she intended to do so. She was slender and tall, easily as tall as Brennan, every movement she made seemed graceful, even her voice had this strange accent, though maybe that was just the unusual rhythm of her sentences, almost as if she was residing poetry. The smooth plates of her armor were grey, cloak and hood constantly changing to reflect her surroundings; in the ashen deserts of Petra she must have been practically invisible. The only thing standing out somewhat, were the few green jewels attached to her armor.

Jane wasn't alone with the Eldar in the Briefing Room. Lord Nicomedo had called for all his Acolytes, all of them armed, Brennan and Vega still in full armor. Arbiter Durai probably looked the least thrilled about their guest, one hand resting on the hilt of his maze the other tightly holding a gold plated las-pistol, a glare darting furiously at the Inquisitor: Jane had the feeling the only thing protecting Lord Nicomedo at this point was his rank. It seemed the only two people who took some kind of enjoyment from this meeting, were Taylor and Seth, whose eyes were fixated on the Eldar, though she had no curves to speak of. Jane rammed her elbow into Taylor's ribs, ignoring the cool feeling the contact gave her, and nodded towards the Inquisitor. Taylor, who'd just looked confused at her, turned his eyes to their employer, and straightened himself up at the dispraising look his Lordship was shooting at the two men. Seth followed quickly.

The Inquisitor turned his attention back to the Eldar. "I am curious to know whether the Farseer is aware of my presents here; you have gotten in contact with me very swiftly."

"We knew you would come, and so I was on the lookout for you, Inquisitor. I'm certain my kin learned of you arrival as soon as I did, if not, they had plenty of time to find out." The xeno answered him, her own black eyes wandering over the Acolytes.

"You've mentioned they do not wish to fight the Necrons."

"We do not have the numbers to face them. I'm reluctant to say, but my former Craftworld is weakened by war, and the Farseer's clan is in conflict with most others. Saim-Hannian are proud, both a strength, yet in times like this a devastating weakness."

A frown appeared on his face. "If all of Saim-Hann was here, could you have faced the Necrons?"

"Maybe, but from what I've heard, the other Farseers have claimed the runes cast this mission, or a war against the Necrontyr in misfortune, and even the Autarch are said to have found no strategy capable of defeating our enemy. Farseer Arhainceyl however still came."

"And for what purpose, if not for the Necrons?"

Her eyes wandered once more over the humans before her. "A few decades ago our Farseers foretold that mankind would come to this world, to mine for its natural resource, unaware that all they had found were the sleeping Necrontyr. In the following conflict the sacred artifacts within the temple my kin is uncovering as we speak, are destroyed, so Farseer Arhainceyl has decided to secure them."

"Then why did you disobey, if everyone else opposed fighting them? And why would the Farseer order the death of his own kin?" It seemed Lord Nicomedo only half-believed her words at best, and Jane wondered what she meant by sacred again, what did she know about Eldar.

"I wasn't out to fight the Necrontyr directly, but to weaken them. As powerful and sophisticated as they may be, they require an energy source, something physical in this world; without their generators, they awaken much more slowly, and the most powerful forces remain sleeping until they are repaired. Unfortunately, the Necrontyr react to any aggressor, which is how they usually awaken in the first place. Only if one acts fast enough, this tactic can succeed. The Farseer claims to have seen my failure that would cause the death of our forces on Petra, and the destruction of our sacred artifacts. A handful of Rangers against over a hundred Eldar? Even for my kin that can be considered reasonable." Despite the neutral tone of the Eldar, Jane could swear she heard just a hint of bitterness, which seemed all too appropriate. Would the Inquisitor do something similar, if deemed necessary? Jane quickly banished the thought; focus.

It appeared the Inquisitor had heard the same underlining tone in the Ranger's voice. "But not in your eyes."

Hers narrowed. "The Necrontyr are already awakening, the tombs' guardians must have already found us, and initiated the revival. Otherwise I would not have taken such a risk."

"I have long ago given up on trying to understand the Eldar or their motives." The Inquisitor explained. "And I trust you know that I hunt Arhainceyl for several years now, since he slaughtered innocent people for references to this place. I have every intention to end it here, be it with mine or his death, and me with a handful of Acolytes are no match the army rising as we speak."

"What I want you to do, is help me finish my original plan; destroy the main generators. Help me and I'll give you the Farseer and him alone. I want my kin spared from Necrontyr, you and his foolishness alike. Soon the first of the undead army will march against our forces, so I, we need to act now."

Durai could no longer restrain himself and spoke, his voice raspy from all cybernetic repairs of his body. "We have no reason to help you, xeno." He practically spat. "If the Necrons destroy you it is in our favor."

The Eldar's eyes narrowed dangerously. "If the Necrontyr prove too strong, my kin will retreat to the webway, as we always do. Many of our warriors will die, yes, but the Farseer will have escaped and this "Imperial" sector, is soon to be overrun by the C'tan's slaves." She turned back to Lord Nicomedo. "What I offer is time for the Imperium to fight the Necrontyr before they're at full strength, and maybe the last opportunity for you Inquisitor, to end your hunt."

He was still doubtful, his eyebrows raised in a frown. "I can trust you to give me the Farseer Arhainceyl?"

"Inquisitor Nicomedo." To Jane's surprise, she made a short bow. "I shall bring you the hunted as promised, once the Generators have been dealt with." Her words were met by silence, and a hateful look from the Arbiter. On the other hand a slight smile played on Brennan's lips, who seemed by far to be the most relaxed in the room.

It was then the communicator came to life and Ship Mistress Sammael artificial sounding voice filled the room, almost obnoxiously loud. "Inquisitor Nicmodeo, we're being hailed by another inquisitorial vessel."

"I'll be on the bridge in a moment." He turned to the others. "Please, wait here, I don't expect to be gone long." With quick strides he crossed the room and left, Arbiter Durai on his heels; Jane doubted it was the company the Inquisitor desired right now. A strange silence came over the assembled, before Jane took a few steps towards Brennan, who was standing to her right.

"Is this the Eldar you've met, when you were a bounty hunter?" She whispered, though not even sure it was necessary.

"That's her."

The Eldar seemed to have heard them. "It sounds like you haven't shared much of your past with your companions."

Brennan's eyes narrowed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Which is none of your business, Yaidev."

She walked over to them, her movement completely silent. "You've never told them of your adventures with the Ikram, or your crewmates?" Her eyes studied him. "Did you ever regret leaving them?"

"None. Of your. Business." Suddenly he seemed less comfortable with her; the Pathfinder seemed to have hit a nerve. Jane had meant to ask about his bounty hunting days; hopefully once the Eldar wasn't around anymore, he'd be more willing to talk.

* * *

The desert lay still, even the wind had died. Naverhan could taste the dry air, leaving a fool taste in his mouth, as he looked east to the temple, its white structures sticking out like a dragon's skeleton. By now the seers were certainly preparing the opening, though Farseer Arhainceyl was still meditating. Ever since he'd received word of the Rangers' complete annihilation, the Farseer had been reevaluating their course of action.

Naverhan closed his eyes, tempted to put on his war-mask, and fully experience his anger, instead of hiding it away. He should have stopped her. Despite the centuries Yaidev had spent as an Outcast, Naverhan had remained a friend to her; she would always visit him when she'd come the Saim-Hann, and in more recent years, they'd met on several battlefields. Those latter meetings he barely recalled, the war-mask separating him from the memories; once he put it on, embrace his anger, they'd come back to him, but nearly silent footsteps, kept him from performing the proper mantras.

"Honored Warrior, I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

Naverhan's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "What do want from me, Ranger?"

Selendir was the only Ranger to be still alive, as he had stayed behind in the camp. He should have been there with the others. "I need only to speak with you." Was there a hint of anxiousness in his voice? Considering that the presence of Aspect Warriors was usually unpleasant to other Eldar, due to their close spiritual connection to Khaine, it wasn't all that surprising.

"I private matter, I suppose."

The Ranger nodded; he was in full gear, a breathing mask hiding his face and expressions from the Warp-Spider. "Indeed, it concerns Pathfinder Yaidev. As I understand it, you knew her well."

"What news would you bring that could interest me? I've already heard, what has happened to her." He truly didn't feel like discussing the matter, no, he wanted to take action, but his Exarch would not allow it.

"What if I were to tell you a different story, one you haven't heard?" Suddenly Selendir had his full attention, and the Ranger knew it. "What if it weren't the tomb's guardians who slaughtered them?"

"I would want to know, who did it instead, and you better be quick to tell me." Maybe his blades could taste some blood after all.

The Rangers eyes wandered briefly to Naverhan's weapons, carefully considering his next words, as he slowly continued. "It began with the honored Farseer's prediction that Yaidev's actions would lead to an accelerated awakening of the Necrontyr."

"I'm aware; that is why he didn't want her to destroy the main generators."

"Despite this, Yaidev still went out as you know; she didn't believe in his prediction. That night I went to the Farseer, asking him to stop her, and sending her away from this world. I feared a renewed conflict between them might split our forces." He lowered his head like a mourner. "But I came too late; Farseer Arhainceyl had already sent out his clan's Riders to hunt her party down."

Naverhan stared at him with a mixture of disbelieve and shock. "You're claiming the Farseer would kill our own kind? On Saim-Hann we might solve some arguments with bloodshed, but we are neither Ors nor Humans."

"Don't you find it odd that it was Arhainceyl's clan, which heroically avenged the Rangers, and supposedly destroyed the guardians, though they are charged with protecting the Farseer, and despite the century lasting feud between Arhainceyl's and Yaidev's clans?"

"The Farseer has foreseen the battle, and sent his Riders to assist them." Even to his own ears it sounded like a half-hearted excuse.

"Too little, too late, don't you think?" There was little denying his assessment. "Why hasn't he sent out some like the Shining Spears, whose weapons are more suited to fight the undead machines?"

With a certain feeling of defeat, Naverahn found himself convinced by Selendir's words. Everyone knew of the feud between Farseer and Pathfinder, otherwise Naverhan would have dismissed this tale as paranoia. "Why are you telling me this? What is it you expect me to do?"

The Ranger seemed exited, more enthusiastic now that he'd persuaded the Aspect Warrior, and spoke faster, surer of himself. "Arhainceyl went too far, and should be judged for his action here, once our mission is complete. I am an Outcast, not even of Saim-Hann, but you are an Aspect Warrior, and you cared for Yaidev…I believe that you can and will do whatever you can to bring him to justice. Your avowal will be listened to, and they will bring him on trial." Selendir calmed himself down with a deep breath. "Once they see his memories, my story, your story, will be confirmed, and Arhainceyl punished."

"Or I bring him to justice here and now." The Warp Spider snapped. It felt like the incident that had brought him Khaine's shrine in the first place, before he'd learned to hide and cope with his anger, and with a certain satisfaction, he saw the Ranger stepped back a little, as if that could save him. Naverhan immediately felt a little ashamed, and promised himself to meditate, before Khaine's influence on him became too overwhelming.

Selendir shook his head. "The savage ways of Saim-Hann; do the Eldar not suffer enough? Let this end without further bloodshed; there mustn't be open war between your clans. Yaidev once told me of your time as a healer; you cured the wounded and sick regardless of who they were. I came to you, hoping something of that attitude had remained."

Naverhan failed to answer him immediately. Yes, he wanted revenge, but the entire point of being an Aspect Warrior had been to deal with hatred without succumbing to it, outer war to achieve inner peace, and Naverhan realized that it could not be him to bring the Farseer to justice. "I'll consider your words, Ranger. Rest assured; I will take no rushed steps against Arhainceyl."

Greatly relieved as it seemed, Selendir bowed. "My gratitude honored Warrior. If you excuse me, I must return to my duties." The Warp Spider wanted to say his goodbyes as well, when suddenly both their eyes were attracted to something at the horizon. "Isha, watch over us." Selendir breathed.

It looked like a green sun was rising at the horizon, dim and far in the distant, but both knew it wouldn't remain like this for long. "It would seem that despite the Farseer's efforts, the Necrontyr have already risen in great number. I must return to my comrades, death is coming."

* * *

Arbiter Durai almost had to run in order to keep up with the Inquisitor, his face strained grimly. Many times over they had hunted down those, who work with filthy xenos, and now this. How could Nicomedo even consider it? How could they succeed, if they were no longer pure of heart, if they became what they hunted?

"Milord, I urge you to reconsider: this Eldar will be our damnation. Even if by some miracle she doesn't betray us, we will have broken our vows, we will have committed heresy."

"A necessary evil the Emperor will forgive us, I'm sure, if we succeed. You should know by now that this galaxy does not consist of only black and white; we constantly must evaluate the countless shades of grey, and try to find the lightest amongst them. I admit, this one is darker than I'd like, but it is an exception, brought on me by our circumstances. Cozy up to the idea that we need her, for now. After that I don't care whether she lives or dies…though it would be better she dies with her Farseer."

The latter Durai was agreeing with, but it wasn't enough. "Many who have stepped over the line, would go on and dismiss it completely, they became radical. They were hunted down by their own colleges, and died as heretics… and what about your vows?" They had been partly to the God-Emperor himself; while first reluctantly, Durai could understand and accept the breaking if promises to mere men, if it was in service to Him, this however was going against their Lord's will. Nothing could ever excuse that.

To Durai's dismay, the Inquisitor didn't see it like that. "In our lives every one of us will break at least one of their vows to fulfill another. I myself am charge with protecting mankind from any threat that may rises, especially xenos, and yet I am responsible for the killing of countless civilians, when I had ordered the destruction of an entire city during an Orc invasion."

"The Orcs were stopped, and the planet saved. Such decisions are made daily, and sometimes necessary."

"Exactly: this is but another tough choice for me, and all I can do is find my best option." He looked sternly at the Arbiter. "While fighting on our own may be in line with our duty, in a very puritan way, our death will at the end serve no one. I rather accept the punishment for my actions here."

"It is not just about you, Milord, but everyone in your service; Ship mistress Sammael and her crew, your Acolytes. They'll all be considered heretics, at least by puritans." Somehow, Durai wanted to sum his thoughts up. "My Lord, the lesser of two evils is still evil, and the enemy of our enemy, is not our friend." It had sounded better in his head, than out loud.

There was a moment of silence, following the Arbiter's words, Nicomedo regarding his Acolyte calmly, finally smiling. Confused, Durai frowned; did the Inquisitor not take him seriously? "Very poetic." Durai admitted to feel a bit offended at his superior's words. "And under other circumstances I would agree, but today I'm afraid we'll have to walk closer to the line than ever before. Should the Eldar make one wrong move, I assure you that I'll deal with her myself; don't make the mistake, and think that I want this alliance. You're dismissed, Durai."

Eugene Durai remained unconvinced, as he watched the Inquisitor enter the bridge. For a while he just stood in the hallway, gritting his teeth and fists clenched, wondering how Nicomedo would explain his intentions to his fellow Inquisitor.

...

The bridge had become less busy ever since they were orbiting the planet. Most of the crew were probably eating, or in their beds, a short rest before the mission would truly begin. Vivian Sammael was waiting for him, standing at the command post. While she had an almost throne-like chair from which she could give her orders, Sammael rather stood or wandered among her crew. "Inquisitor Giuliano has almost reached us. His estimated arrival is in 14hour, 23minutes."

Nicomedo nodded and started the broadcast. The holographic portrait of the other Inquisitor appeared, glowing in dim green light. Despite this, Nicomedo still knew exactly how his old friend looked like: the skin a bit darker than his own, but his hair already white, his long slender beard neatly cut, and his eyes dark and almond shaped. Nicomedo made the sign of the Aquila. "Rafael Giuliano, I'm grateful you've answered my call so quickly." Indeed, Nicomedo had sent his initial message when'd reached Ibelin.

The other Inquisitor returned the sign. "You have been rather silent for many year, Basil. Not even our superiors could tear you from your duties."

"I have been rather busy."

Giuliano smiled warmly. "Ah, aren't we all. Now, what trouble are you in, old friend that you call upon me, but not the Ordo."

"I'm afraid I'm running out of time. As you've probably already know, I've been hunting an Eldar Farseer, following from ruin to ruin, as he unleashed wars on Imperial worlds, and gathered information about a location here on Petra. On this planet is what he's been looking for the whole time, as far as I'm concerned xenos artifacts. I fear that once he's finished here, he'll return to his Craftworld, and I'll never find him again. To make things worse his forces have increased and Necrons are awakening as we speak."

"I wish I could say we let the Necrons take care of that problem, but knowing the Eldar they will rather flee than take up the fight, even against the Necrons. Yes, I see why you'd like the Deathwatch on your side, but not even they may fight the countless undead."

"They don't need to. I've been provided with information that taking out the xenos's central generator will slow their awakening drastically, buying us time for a swift strike against the Eldar."

"Have your men come up with this idea?" Even without his eyebrow raised, Nicomedo knew his old friend had his suspicions.

"We had help." It almost felt like a confession.

"Trustworthy?"

"Close enough; I have little choice, and an opportunity has presented itself. It would seem that the inner conflicts among the Eldar of Saim-Hann have proven valuable. Of course I'll still be cautious, and I'd be thankful for another one to keep his eyes out."

"A little detail just between us?"

"Just this minor one." Once, many decades ago, it had been Giuliano in a similar situation, where he'd been forced to ally himself with the Tau. Nicomedo had supported his actions,and saved his friend much trouble with the Ordo; now he hoped this favor would be returned.

Giuliano nodded. "I'll be arriving in about 14hours. You might want to stay put until then, and I'll be delighted to hear your concrete strategy." He gave Nicomedo a knowing glance. "Maybe meet your 'opportunity'?"

Nicomedo tried not to look relieved, though he deeply was; it was good to know Giuliano on his side. "That can be arraigned. I hope you don't count someone like Black Templar among the Astartes."

His worried words were answered by a brief chuckle. "Lucky for you, no; however it might be best not to let them know too much."

"Agreed, we'll be awaiting your arrival. Emperor be with you."

"Emperor be with be you as well, Basil." He nodded to Sammael. "And you, Ship Mistress."

* * *

Night had fallen over the temple, its outer structure illuminated by cold green light. The Necrontyr's approach was slow, but they'd arrive before morning broke. Exarch Cadaith's Dark Reapers stood ready, while the Swooping Hawks gathered upon the roof. Naverhan set his eyes away from the desert, and turned to his fellow warriors, taking his place next to Mealandir, who had brought him to the shrine several years ago. The warrior's expression was impassive, he was controlled as ever, and the Warp Spiders expected him to change his path soon again. There was no exchange of words, as their Exarch approached, like the rest of them in full armor, with only the helmet, and weapons set aside. The Exarch's eyes wandered over his disciples, before he began with the ritualistic mantra. They had resided most of it before, as preparation for this mission, but now they would say it in full, donning their war-mask, bringing them into that almost instinct dominated state of mind. At the words, Naverhan could fell his armor reactivate, feeling now more like a second skin than a suit. They resided movement patterns, the Eldar entering a trance-like state; everything was perfectly synchronized, every gracious move, every breath. It would have been thrilling, but Naverhan's mind was too focused on his Exarch's words.

"We gave our blood, as we were called for war." Indeed all of them had the Warp Spider rune drawn on their foreheads with their own blood. It was long dried, yet Naverhan could now fell it prickle, reacting to the mantra. "With peace broken, only war remains." His heart pumped boiling blood through his veins, his anger emerging fully alive from a hidden corner of his mind. "We clad ourselves for battle, embraced by Khaine's iron skin, his fire burns within." They put on their helmets, the red lenses immediately relaying information to him. Like all the other times, he noted that their pulses matched perfectly. With his helmet his war-mask had taken its place. Had there ever been a life aside from Khaine's embrace? His memories of the past were swept aside, along with his feeling of guilt, remorse and pity. "We bear war's dark burdens upon our shoulders, unyielding, freed of doubt or fear." Naverhan's sprit-stone hummed, his true protection of the darkness he was now embracing so willingly. Without a conscious thought, he lifted his main weapon, a Death Spinner, connecting it with his red and white Aspect Armor, his black Jump Generator coming to life, ready for battle. "We strike sudden, swift and deadly. Let Kahine's gift guide you."

It was completed. The Warp Spider was now breathing calmly again, eager for battle. He flexed his muscles, feeling stronger and more aware of his surroundings: he could faintly hear the Farseers down below as they opened the sealed door, feel the warmth radiating from every Eldar in his sight, and smell the tainted metal in the wind. There was only war.

* * *

Nicomedo returned to the Briefing Room, his operatives still waiting except for the Arbiter. He dismissed them all. He wanted to talk with the Pathfinder alone. Without a word, his Acolytes left, Vega shot him a questioning glance at her way out, until only Brennan was left, who remained at the door, giving Nicomedo a curt nod. How much did this Eldar unsettle the former Bounty Hunter, or was he maybe even a bit glad about seeing her again, of hearing news from his old friends? The Inquisitor had heard the Eldar tell Brennan about a rather recent meeting with the Ikram, on their way back from Petra. Knowing his friends alive certainly meant much to him. With a responding nod Nicomedo sent him off, and the door closed with a hiss. Now alone with her, he had to admit he felt tense.

"My Acolytes are split about having you as a potential ally." He began, watching her standing relaxed at the other side of the holographic-table.

To his modest surprise, she leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes, and smiled kindly. "Because I'm not human, or because you fear I'm going to betray you?"

The question felt rhetorical; still he would give her an answer. "Even you will have to admit that your kin has a history of turning against us, as soon as you no longer require our help."

"True, but would mankind do any less?" She asked, calmly. Her eyes weren't cold and accusing, but instead curious; this Eldar confused the Inquisitor more than others of her kind. There wasn't the open hostility and arrogance he'd come to expect from those xenos. "My kin is fighting to delay its own extinction, and so we've become desperate. Using others to fight our battles has saved thousands of our people, and we turn our back on our allies, because we know they will turn on us. Your Imperium preaches hatred towards anything not human; it doesn't permit another sentient specie next to mankind."

"I despise that you have a point" Nicomedo's reply sounded somewhat annoyed as he folded his arms across his chest. Still, she hadn't denied the possibility of her treason, and he would anticipate it.

She chuckled mildly at his words, a pleasant little sound, but turned serious again very quickly. "Regarding myself, I have tried not to get into too much conflict with the Imperium, because I believe that we need you. The Imperium acts like a buffer: Orc Waaaghs, Chaos intrusions, Tyranid Hive Fleets, it is your people who always suffer the greatest blow. The continuing, relative stability of the Imperium protects my kin to a certain degree. Without it, we become a more prominent target."

He couldn't help but get sarcastic, though his voice remained almost neutral. "So, glad to be of service."

"Inquisitor, regardless of what I tell you, you will never trust me, and you probably do good with that stance. All I want is to help my people, and see Arhainceyl dead; I will assist you with anything that is not in conflict with these two goals, furthermore I will not harm you or you Acolytes, unless you threaten my kin directly. That is what I promise you Inquisitor."

"Then I will have to take your word for it." He admitted, to his own dismay. "One question remains: can you follow a human's plans and orders?"

"If they are well thought out, I suppose I could."

Nicomedo felt that he wasn't going to regret collaborating with her. "Good enough, I suppose. Well then, Pathfinder Yaidev of Saim-Hann, let us discuss who to destroy those generators of yours, and when you're planning to help me kill the Farseer." He pushed a button on the table, and a green glowing display of the planet below, began to hover over its surface.

* * *

Jane followed Brennan and Taylor into the canteen, which at the time was empty. It was certain that the Inquisitor would call for them soon again, and she felt nervous in prospect of her fist mission. Her stomach was in twist, her hands constantly moving, clenching and unclenching, thumbs running over her other fingers. The Untouchable sat down at one of the tables and got out a pipe, he'd recently gotten from one of the crew; it looked strangely comical on him. Brennan meanwhile helped himself to a glass and a bottle of Amasec, taking his place across from Taylor. With all the tension she felt, Jane needed to distraction, and so this seemed to be a good a time as any to ask what was on her mind.

"Brennan, I've meant to ask about your time before the Adrastos…you know, as a Bounty Hunter."

Slowly the put down his glass. "Has the Eldar sparked your sudden interest?" He asked, looking at her from the corners of his eyes. Taylor watched them both curiously, puffing his pipe.

Jane shook her head, getting the feeling it had been a mistake to ask. "No, I was wanted to for some time, but whenever we hinted at it." Shortly she shot a look over to Taylor, who smiled and shrugged indifferent. "You seemed…let us say, uncomfortable?"

With thought-filled eyes, Brennan watched the Amasec run circles in his glass. "Lend me that pipe, would you?" He finally said to his fellow Acolyte. As he wiped off the mouthpiece, Brennan turned back to Jane. "Sit down; don't have to stand there all night long. Before I met Nicomedo, I'd spent most of my life as a Bounty Hunter, along with my friend Dargo Owen and later his wife Atifa. We'd bought a small ship, which was called the Ikram."

"Does that mean anything…?" Taylor interjected, and took Brennan's glass. When the former Bounty Hunter narrowed his eyes, he simply stated. "Hey, fair is fair."

"In Dargo's native language it means hospitality, after all we did spend years making it home. Once we were finished it wasn't like the Adrastos; we painted about every single room of the ship, getting rid of that gun-metal grey, got furniture, carpets, Atifa even added some plants at one point." There was a serene smile on his lips, which was somehow contagious, as Jane found herself smiling in return, as he continued. "I was the only one to really commit to bounty hunting, they were too busy running the ship, and supplying it, at least until we met an Arbiter; Cailyn Octavian and I met as we were hunting the same target. She was pretty much fed up by local politics, young and idealistic, so she kinda ran off with us. Cailyn was, is an excellent shot, and her experience was very handy when tracking down criminals. Of course she had to loosen up a little; her life as an Arbiter had left her rather stiff and humorless.

Later we were joined by Asbjorn Finlay, a former Guardsmen medic with a preference for ballistic weapons. He was bored by his new life as a civilian, and we needed someone to patch us up, especially after Dargo had lost one of his eyes. And then there was boy, an orphan Benedict, though we usually just called him Ben. He was stupid enough to try and steal from Cailyn, but lucky for the boy Asbjorn was there to save his sorry ass. We went on to use him as a spy, and when we left the planet again, Ben snuck onboard." Brennan snickered amused, with downplayed sorrow in his eyes. "I guess that time I got the closest to playing the role of a parent."

"How many years did you spent with them?" She already had open up some wound, Jane could tell, but the words just slipped out.

"About eighty years. We even got a pet at some point; a dragonhound we called Samira."

Taylor refilled the glass, looking questioning at his fellow Acolyte. "What's that?"

"A reptilian animal; imagine a saurian wolf, with saber teeth in its lower jaw, and a small sail along its spine. On a desert planet they're kept as pets, for hunting, and guard herds…lucky for Ben also kid friendly."

"So how does the Eldar fit in?" So far this had been going better than Jane had expected; just this one more thing.

Brennan didn't answer right away, first too busy watching the smoke rise to the ceiling as he breathed it out again. "The Pathfinder, Yaidev, we've encountered on a hunt." He began between two puffs. "We were going after a known heretic, who was leading a cult of the ruinous powers. As it turned out they had also stolen so-called spirit-stones, very valuable to the Eldar, and Yaidev had come to retrieve them. We forged a temporary alliance. As you might have guessed, we were successful, and parted ways with the Pathfinder soon after."

"I take from your words, she stayed a while." Taylor noted, emptying his second glass. As he tried to refill it again, Jane pulled it away; it didn't seem like a good idea to get drunk on their first mission. He briefly pulled a face, however made no attempt to get his glass back.

"Only a few days but yes. She was strangely curious about us, watched us interacting, asking us questions about our lives…it felt as if we were being studied like animals. Of course we soon grew uncomfortable with an Eldar around, and the Pathfinder left; haven't seen her since then." He sighed. "Though she seemed to have met the Ikram again."

"Your friends?" She looked at him worrying. Even though Jane didn't know how long ago he'd left the Ikram, some of them could have been killed in the past years; it was actually very likely.

"Alive, if she's told me the truth, and I'm not so sure about that. Maybe she just figured, being the bearer of bad new wasn't the best way to introduce herself. Either way it doesn't matter. The Ikram's a thing of the past, and it's not healthy to dwell on it."

Neither Taylor not Jane wanted to ask anymore, and so it became silent in the canteen again, only occasionally interrupted by Brennan's puffs. While she'd never smoked herself, the tangy smoke prickled pleasantly whenever she drew breath. Somehow Jane felt a little sniveling at this point; sure she'd left behind a perfectly normal, and rather secure job, but Brennan left much more: friends, a sense of family.

"So,…do I get that glass back?"

Innocently looking at the ceiling, Jane gave the glass a push, which sent it sliding away, to the end of the table.


End file.
